Just uninstalled McAfee from my desktop after the year’s free subscription which came with the purchase. Always find this rather amusing. The condemned program throws up an increasingly hysterical series of exhortations about the disastrous consequences of not paying an arm and a leg for something I can get free online. As I administer the coup de grace the final message is a sorrowful plea for information about what trollopy software has tempted me away after all it has done for me.

Got halfway to the vet when I realised I’d left the dog at home. 😶

Left for work in a hurry today (is there any other way?). In the car I noticed an unexpected lump in my coat pocket. Further exploration yielded two (thankfully still intact) hens eggs which I had collected from the hen house on my way in from work yesterday evening.

Today I am experimenting (will I ever learn?) with a new pair of “control top” tights and an anti frizz shampoo and conditioner which is supposed to smell like “watermelon burst” but (having been liberally applied in the shower) is emanating an aroma not dissimilar to my compost bin which is way overdue for emptying.
I have a feeling around my torso reminiscent of the time I hurriedly dressed and ended up on my way to work in my 11 year old’s tights. It took a fair amount of effort to get these on today and I now I realise I didn’t think this one through properly. There may be extended absences from my workstation when I need to visit the facilities.
If you don’t hear from me again, follow the subtle smell of rotting fruit and you will find me trapped in a cubicle with my hosiery wrapped around my knees.

Swimming coming along nicely and I can now maintain front crawl for a number of lengths. My technique appears to facilitate the development of an amusing and diverting phenomenon. The “Swimming Cap Fart”. As I plod up and down the pool, a proportion of the air I breathe out under water seems to find its way into my cap, resulting in a “Venteuse” like protuberance on the crown of my head. When firmly and steadily depressed this expels around the ear flaps producing a very pleasing farting noise resulting in consternation amongst the other swimmers as I look around accusingly.

Swimming coming along nicely and I can now maintain front crawl for a number of lengths. My technique appears to facilitate the development of an amusing and diverting phenomenon. The “Swimming Cap Fart”. As I plod up and down the pool, a proportion of the air I breathe out under water seems to find its way into my cap, resulting in a “Venteuse” like protuberance on the crown of my head. When firmly and steadily depressed this expels around the ear flaps producing a very pleasing farting noise resulting in consternation amongst the other swimmers as I look around accusingly.

School swimming lessons in the 1960s really only taught me the basic skill of not drowning. I’ve never learnt to do front crawl, so recently I had my first swimming lesson for 45 years. I learnt the following things in 30 mins.

1) Half decent front crawl without inhaling gallons of water.
2) A nose clip is essential
3) I have been simply pansying around in the pool up till now doing breast stroke
4) I can just about manage one length without expiring
5) Lots of practice required
6) Immense respect for all front crawl swimmers
7)You’re never too old to learn something new from a delightful, young (she looks about 12) experienced swimming instructor
8) I need a lie down.

Woken at 3am by husband getting up to go out early. 4am – get back to sleep. Alarm goes off at 6am. Go out to feed hens to come face to face with a startled deer which legs it round the garden hotly pursued by three dogs. 15 minute Benny Hill chase in an attempt to drive it out so it won’t eat my artichokes. Lose deer – assume it has jumped out of garden. Go to shed to get shovel to clear up the multitude of poos left on the lawn by overexcited spaniel. Come across rogue hen which has escaped morning egg-laying curfew by flapping out of the run and is now pensively crapping on the patio, plotting which obscure and inaccessible spot to hide its egg today. Attempt and fail to catch the feathery conniving git. Go into kitchen to find that senior lab has barfed in his basket. Clear up barf and put blanket in washing machine. Wash hands. Turn round to find senior lab has trodden in the fresh hen poo which is attached to his rear foot and is now liberally distributing it all over the kitchen. Clear up hen poo. Wash hands. Greeted by spaniel gleefully presenting me with a partially eviscerated and decomposing starling complete with maggots, which he drops on my bare foot.

When I was younger and more impressionable, I always said that when I die I would like my ashes scattered over Mel Gibson. I now realise that is in very poor taste.
George Clooney would be a much better choice.

Thanks for joining me!

This is an extension of my personal Facebook posts, converted to a public Facebook page and now a Blog.  I live in a beautiful rural area with my family and a menagerie of pets and animals. I try to find one thing to laugh about every day no matter how shit it has been.  Hopefully I can make you all laugh too!

Menopause:

Stealthily and rapidly transforms one’s physique into that of a blancmange filled balloon

Renders one disproportionately irritated with one’s husband for leaving the toilet seat up